


Returning

by StolenChilde



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Brief Reference to issues of angel-related consent, Coda, Dean+Castiel Friendship, Gen, M/M, Mild Language, Pre-Slash, Spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-13
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-12-29 06:42:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1002186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StolenChilde/pseuds/StolenChilde
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Castiel finally finds his way to the bunker and the Winchesters.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Returning

**Author's Note:**

> Not much really, just felt inclined to explore some ideas further that came to be following the Season Nine premiere. Enjoy!

**Returning**

Dean was sitting in the bunker, unread book open on his lap. He was watching Sam like a hawk, Sam who was acting perfectly normal and perfectly natural. He expected at any minute for Sam to get a hint or inclination that there was something not quite right with his body. That he was possessed, once again, by an angel who was creeping just under his skin. So far nothing. Dean just went on watching.

A loud bang came at the steel entrance door and Dean jumped, startled. He looked at Sam who looked over with a frown and Dean cautiously got to his feet to make his way through the command centre then up to the balcony. He stopped at the door, peered out and threw the door open without a thought. Castiel, looking bedraggled and dressed in clothes Dean had never seen on him before stumbled forward and right into Dean’s arms.

“Cas? Jesus. What the hell?”

“I… had to come a long way,” Castiel said his voice rougher than usual and weak. Dean felt the semi-damp warmth of sweat under Castiel’s red hooded sweatshirt. He felt Castiel’s heart hammering against his arm where it rested along Castiel’s back supporting him. He felt the way Castiel breathed rough and laboured as if he had been sprinting at the top of his speed. Dean stomach lurched. He knew, Castiel had _told_ him he wasn’t an angel anymore but the solid, real proof under Dean’s hands was almost more than he could bear.

“I… my stomach…” Castiel muttered.

Together the two carefully navigated the old wooden staircase and Dean half-carried, half-dragged Castiel into the library before depositing him on one of the leather chairs along the wall. Castiel looked over at Sam, a tired greeting poised on his lips and pleased surprise in his eyes before both faltered and the more familiar furrow came over Castiel’s brow.

“Sam are you—”

“Cas,” Dean said forcibly, hoping Castiel could still read him well enough to know when Dean needed him to shut the hell up. “Sam is _fine_.”

“But—”

“I’m going to make you some food. Burgers sound good?”

Castiel seemed to reach out for Dean to stop him but faltered when his stomach rumbled loud and hollow in the quiet of the room. Castiel flushed a brilliant red. Dean marvelled at the change.

“I, yea—” Castiel’s voice cracked something awful and Sam was on his feet quickly coming over with a glass filled from the water pitcher on the serving cart. Castiel took it gratefully and drank rapidly. Dean watched the muscles of his throat work as he swallowed.

“Dean? Aren’t you going to make dinner?” Sam prompted gently. “A burger sounds awesome.”

Dean was snapped out of it quickly at those words. Sam wanting to eat was a promising change from the previous months. He nodded quickly and moved to the kitchen but this time Castiel did manage to reach out and snag his sleeve.

“Dean—”

“More water?” Dean prompted tightly. He filled Castiel’s glass without waiting for a response. _We’ll talk later. Please just drop it._ Dean slightly begged, green pleading with blue. _Please, hear me._

“Thank you,” Castiel answered stiffly.

Dean felt some of the tension drain from his shoulders.

He walked quickly to the kitchen, needing to get dinner prepared and on the table with him firmly present before Castiel and Sam talked too much. Dean didn’t know how much angel Castiel ended up retaining – grace or no grace – and was worried that he would sense Ezekiel hovering under Sam’s skin. Dean believed this had been the right call. He didn’t doubt that saving Sam’s life was a priority but he had mixed feelings about hiding the truth from his brother who had been possessed twice before by things that Dean didn’t want to think about. Ezekiel _seemed_ different and Castiel _seemed_ pleased to hear the name which translated into trust in Dean’s book but then again Castiel had also trusted Metatron – they all had.

Dean mashed at the ground beef with more vigour than strictly necessary. Pleased he had the foresight to take it out to thaw the night before. It would save him a few minutes of prep time. He mixed his special blend with the meat with less care and finesse than he normally would have liked but one more second that he was in here away from Castiel and Sam was another minute Sam could be closer to figuring out the truth. How would Sam react when he found out Dean lied to him _again?_ No more secrets and no more lies. Hadn’t they made that promise at some point?

On top of that, Dean also needed to have a serious talk with Cas about trust and about thinking of _himself_ for a change. When Cas worried about the world without consulting and trusting Dean, bad things tended to happen. There was that old saying about good intentions. Cas couldn’t do nearly as much damage now but there was now a hell of a lot to learn. Dean wanted to squeeze away the headache forming between his eyes but his hands were layered with raw beef. He finished up quickly, made his patties and washed his hands. The frying pan was nice and hot and waiting. As the burgers fried he cut up the toppings. His hands quivered with every slice, anxious to get back to his fallen angel and broken brother.

xx

Dean finally returned to the library, balancing their dinner plates precariously. He was careful not to drop the tiny leaves from his fucking spinach _salad_ on the floor. Even Dean could concede that sometimes you just had to eat your vegetables. He looked nervously into the room to see if he would be met with dire, twin glares. He allowed himself to relax when he saw that Sam, looking more at ease than he had in _months_ , was still reading quietly and Castiel was sitting with his arms on the armrests of the chair, his head back against the leather with his eyes closed. The water pitcher was empty on the serving cart that one of them had wheeled closer to the chair.

“Soups on,” Dean said over-bright.

xx

Sam had gone to bed, claiming tiredness an hour ago. It was understandable. He was still healing and Dean didn’t get much of a chance to speak to Zeke but he could clearly see just by looking that there was still a ways to go. Dean supposed that came from being nearly dead. He shuddered faintly, not able to contemplate life without his brother – _again_ , and turned back to his book.

Castiel, sitting across from Dean still weak but mostly rejuvenated from food and water, slammed his heavy volume shut and Dean looked up slowly raising a casual eyebrow. Castiel was glaring at him and despite him being devoid of grace it was still full of righteous anger and hot enough to scald.

“What did you do?” Castiel asked his voice low and gruff like the good old days.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Dean said idly, turning back to his magazine.

“ _Dean_.”

“ _Cas_.”

“Dean, what did you do?” Castiel repeated. “Don’t play dumb. You can fool everyone save me with that act. I know you too well.”

“What makes you think I did something?”

“Oh, I don’t know… You mean aside from the neon sign that is a fallen brother glaring at me beneath Sam’s skin? I’m only _mostly_ human. There’s a spark still left. Enough for me to _see_. Does Sam know?”

Dean didn’t answer and for Castiel, Dean knew, that was answer enough. He was not in the mood for a lecture and in his frank opinion Castiel was in no position to give any. Dean wasn’t about to start a fight though, not after everything that had gone on. He believed he’d grown as a person that way. He _hugged_ now, after all. Castiel was never one to let sleeping dogs lie however.

“Dean,” now Castiel’s voice was pained and distraught as he stared sadly at the green-eyed hunter. He shook his head slowly and turned away.

Dean tossed his magazine down on the table and leaned forward, hands flat on the wooden surface in front of him. “What was I supposed to do, Cas? He was _dying_ ,” Dean hissed. “I’ve done worse for less.”

“Yes, and that worked out so very well,” Castiel rolled his eyes. “Tell me this: what is Sam going to think when he finds out you forced an angel inside of him? Because you and I both know, he _will_ inevitably find out. Not to mention, what’s to say the angel is going to give up control forever? Or even _leave_ Sam?” Castiel had also put aside his reading and was leaning across the table, mirroring Dean’s position, eyes furious and intense as they bore into Dean’s.

“It was part of the deal, all right?” Dean had to look away when he said it.

“Deal? A _deal_.”

“Climb down of your high horse there, Pal. You ain’t in any position to be judging me!”

“Dean,” Castiel came back with the sad, resigned tone again as he looked away.

“Cas, I got this,” Dean tried to put more confidence in his tone than he felt.

“I certainly hope you’re right. Who is it?”

“Who’s what?”

“Dean, the angel, which angel?”

“Oh, Ezekiel.”

Castiel nodded thoughtfully. “From what I recall, he is trustworthy and as I said: a good soldier. He should honour his word. For your brother’s sake, I hope that he does.”

“You want to talk to him yourself?”

Castiel looked up his eyes wide like a deer in headlights. Dean suspected there was more to Castiel’s trek across country than he was letting on but it was late and Dean figured neither of them was up for story-time just then.

“No, I… No.”

Dean nodded and turned half-heartedly back to his magazine. He secretly applauded them for getting through an intense conversation-slash-argument without throwing any punches. It was probably a small mercy though because Cas looked as if a stiff wind could knock him on his ass. Though, he didn’t look so near death as he had when he had stumbled into the bunker a few hours earlier.

The two of them read a bit longer in silence which was shattered suddenly but Castiel yawning so loudly that Dean heard his jaw crack from across the table. Dean looked up, feeling guilt and second-hand grief roil in his stomach at the sight. Then he cursed because he realized that they only had three habitable rooms and no proper couch. He looked over at the leather chairs and tried to determine if he’d manage to sleep in one until they could sort out a room for Cas. Maybe he could push two together.

“Dean, don’t be ridiculous,” Castiel scoffed, startling Dean.

“I thought that mind reading thing fizzled out with your angel powers,” Dean winced after he said it, not exactly the best thing to say at the moment. ‘Too soon’ whirled around in his head.

Though to Dean’s surprise, Castiel merely rolled his eyes again. “Just because I’ve lost the ability to read your thoughts, Dean Winchester, doesn’t mean I’ve lost the ability to read you. You’re about to make another needless sacrifice. I won’t deprive you of your sleep and comfort. I actually find I’m so tired I could likely sleep anywhere. My eyes feel as if they are weighted down. It’s a rather new experience.”

“One of many, I imagine,” Dean mused gentle and resigned. “But Cas, you _need_ the sleep. I can see it, Man. Just take my bed.”

“No, Dean.”

“Cas, seriously. It’s fine.”

“I won’t. You need rest as well.”

“Cas.”

“I will not displace you from your bed, Dean. I refuse.”

“Then just share the damn thing with me!” Dean shouted suddenly, surprising himself as much as Cas. He back-peddled quickly, groping around for a good reason, “I mean, it’s not like I’ve never had to bunk with Sammy before, right? It’s a big bed. You’re not nearly the size of sasquatch-boy. We can manage a night or two. It won’t hurt us. Just ‘til we get a room for you figured out, right?”

Castiel hesitated before saying, “That _does_ seem like the most logical compromise. And it puts a quick end to an unnecessary argument.”

“Right.”

“Yes.”

They both stared at each other before Dean coughed and shifted then rose from the table. Castiel pushed his book aside carefully and followed.

xx

They finished their washroom routine before experiencing a very awkward moment when they crossed the threshold of Dean’s room and paused at the foot of the bed.

“What ah… side?” Dean asked and gestured to his bed.

It took Castiel a few seconds to understand what Dean was asking but when he realised he replied, “I don’t… Um… I _haven’t_ determined a preference as of yet.”

Dean nodded and went around to the left leaving the right for Castiel. Dean sat down and Castiel hesitantly followed his lead. They sat like that, on their respective sides, tense and back-to-back before Dean huffed.

“This is ridiculous. We’re grown-ass men for god’s sake. _Friends_ ,” Dean muttered mostly to himself. He began to strip his clothes off and within a few moments he was down to boxers and a t-shirt sliding into his light sleep sweats he had tossed over the chair at his desk that morning. He sat on the bed, leaned against the headboard and crossed his ankles.

Castiel followed after a few more awkward seconds but he was left standing in his pilfered t-shirt and old white boxer-shorts.

“You can grab a pair of pants from the bottom drawer,” Dean gestured to the dresser. Castiel nodded and shuffled over. The squeak of the drawer when he pulled it open seemed very loud in the small, quiet room. Castiel pulled out the first pair he saw and slid into them, he moved to walk back to the bed but Dean stopped him.

“Hit the light, Dude. I ain’t getting up.” He had settled under the blankets when Castiel got up.

Castiel switched the desk lamp off and made his careful way back to the bed, overwhelmed but how _dark_ the room was. He was unused to it and stubbed his toe on the bedframe, he hissed at the sudden sharp pain. Dean snorted out a laugh before he could help it.

“Ouch,” Castiel said plaintively. “It hurts.”

“First stubbed toe, congrats. Now get into bed and take your damned socks off.”

Dean heard the rustle of material as the socks came off. Then a weight settled on the bed next to him and Castiel cautiously peeled back the blankets. Dean pulled it back for him and held it up when he noticed how timid Castiel was being. Castiel shuffled under and Dean let the blanket drop.

They lay on their backs in the dark, both now wide awake at the new dynamic, if not the proximity. They were both used to being shoulder to shoulder and though the bed was a double, they weren’t small men and with each gentle inhale their arms brushed.

“This mattress is very comfortable,” Castiel observed voice low and serious.

“Memory foam,” Dean answered sagely.

xx

They still had a lot to figure out. Sam’s condition. Castiel’s humanity. Dean’s guilt. However, the three of them having a lot to figure out was nothing new. They were back together again; the trifecta of badassery – Team Free Will. And, for the first time in a long time, Dean felt a warm coil of contentment settle in his chest. Castiel was a solid, warm weight next to him and it was nice. Sam was healing gradually in the other room and his health and happiness was all Dean ever really wished for. Sure shit could very well hit the fan, but right now, in this moment, things were pretty fucking awesome.

xx

When Sam peeked in on them the next morning, he saw that sometime in the night, they had shifted and curled around each other. He smiled as he shut the door.

**End**


End file.
